Feast of Saint Andrew, Apostle

Lectionary: 684

If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord
and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

The tenth chapter of Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans is preoccupied with his distress and disappointment that so few Jews had come to believe in Jesus. He seemed to have forgotten his initial resistance to the Gospel, and his severe, if not violent, persecution of those who followed the Way. 

The enigma of how Catholics and the innumerable sects of Christianity should relate to the Jews (who are also divided by countless controversies, interpretations, and traditions) remains to this day. Paul resolved it in his own mind only with a hope that the Jews might finally come over to Christ after all of the gentiles have done so. 

But the question also aroused many inspirational ideas in the Apostle's mind; among them, his reassuring doctrine, 

If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord

and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

The Gospel concerns not only the salvation of the whole world, it's also about your particular standing before God. While everyone should feel some responsibility for the welfare of the Earth and all its peoples, there is also the reassurance that, "his eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches over me. " 

The older I get the more I realize how little impact I've had; the world is not much improved for my having been here; and it might just possibly be worse. A friend once told me, "When I was young I was going to change the world. And then I tried to change everyone around me. And now I realize I can only change myself." 

I told her, "You're almost there. I have given up on changing myself." As Charlotte Eliott wrote in 1835, 

Just as I am - without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,
-O Lamb of God, I come! 

Paul would not live to see the conversion of the Jews. Nor will you and I. Nor will we see Protestants and Catholics reunited; Jews and Arabs link arms to sing Kumbaya, or the easing of the Climate Crisis. 

Our young heirs might ask if we've made any difference at all. Fortunately, we'll not have to answer to them.

Wednesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 505

Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.

Very often, when we speak for ourselves before authorities, we speak defensively; making excuses, blaming others, looking for sympathy, rationalizing, minimizing, whining, and so forth. We've got a million ways to avoid responsibility. 

The Lord urges us, when we're speaking for him of the Gospel, we should let him do the talking. 

When King Belshazzar saw the handwriting on the wall, he called on a prophet to explain it. Only the Hebrew could explain the Hebrew words; the secular wisdom of the Babylonian empire was no help. Nor could Belshazzar blame Daniel for what was written. 

The Spirit of God gives us an intuitive knowledge of the truth. It is borne of lifelong experience in the faith; of patient waiting on the Spirit, of serious study of the scriptures, theology, and history of our Church; of conversation with other people of faith; knowledge of the world; and of willingness to forget oneself and one's personal concerns. 

Our wisdom is rooted in Revelation, that is, the inexplicable intervention of the Lord into our world, our history, our experience. We had not expected it; nor did we earn or deserve it. The earlier chapters of Genesis describe a world without God's direct intervention. First there are the wicked societies created by men and women before the Flood. They should know right from wrong; the basic principles are not that hard to discover. But their corruption is deep as each one pursues their own interest. 

The world is not improved by God's wrath, as Noah proves when he scandalizes his sons with his drunken behavior. The family is scattered and the history of sin continues as if the Deluge never happened. 

Despite the availability of truth to human research, we cannot save ourselves. God must act for us on our behalf; we must hear, treasure, and ponder God's word to us. That Word has become flesh and lived among us. We tell the story, and remain firmly within that tradition which is instructed by the Word and molded by the Spirit. 

And occasionally, they will ask us, "Tell us what MENE, TEKEL, and PERES mean." 

But more often, as Jesus warned us, they will resent our knowing and living within the Truth.

Tuesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 504

When you hear of wars and insurrections,
do not be terrified; for such things must happen first,
but it will not immediately be the end."

Scriptures old and new frequently remind us "Do not be afraid." That may be the first principle of, or the first thing we learn when we practice, faith. 

Millions of people ride roller coasters every year. They may feel some anxiety as they board these contraptions, but it is a thrilling anxiety which converts the discomfort of being thrown against hard seats, metal bars and one another into pleasure. And many of them, afterward, line up to do it again -- even if they've heard of these mini-trains stalling, with their passengers hanging upside down in mid-flight. 

Can we not translate that confidence in machinery into our trust in God. True -- we have heard stories of God's people suffering dreadfully at the hands of their enemies. But the same stories often tell us of their heroic courage; they would not even hate their enemies. 

The human creature appears on a dynamic planet. There may be none remotely like it in the entire, vast universe. The more we learn of exoplanets the more we appreciate the uniqueness of our own, and the less likely a duplicate will appear. Born in such a moody, unpredictable world, and given our extraordinary ability to imagine the future and plan for it, we suffer anxiety. What if...? What if? and What if? again.

"What if there is no god?" Some people ask, and, "What if we are alone in the universe?" And, "What if the contractors cheated when they built the roller coaster and it collapses while you're on it?"  

Yes, we can live that way if we so choose. We can suppose that no one is trustworthy, and that everything will collapse, and probably this afternoon. Or we can go on living the life we've been given courageously, generously, and with compassion for the cowardly. 

Jesus made his prediction about the collapse of the temple -- not one stone left upon another -- with a pretty clear conception of what was about to happen. He'd come to Jerusalem to celebrate his final Passover, and to suffer his final agony. He knew his enemies were watching and plotting, and would spring upon him at any moment. He might be one of the millions who disappear when governments arbitrarily decide to move against them. 

He chose courage and kindness, and his people choose to believe in him.

Monday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 503

The king told... his chief chamberlain, to bring in some of the children of Israel of royal blood and of the nobility, young men without any defect, handsome, intelligent and wise, quick to learn, and prudent in judgment, such as could take their place in the king's palace; they were to be taught the language and literature of the Chaldeans; after three years' training they were to enter the king's service.

By the standards of European imperialism, Nebuchadnezzar's policy of integrating some second-generation Jewish captives into his court sounds enlightened, if not revolutionary. Apparently the Chaldeans (in this fictional account found in the Book of Daniel) did not assume their subjects were inferior to them. They knew nothing of race; and had never heard of Darwin's survival of the fittest. Their social sciences were not as primitive as those of later, Christian nations. Enlightened empires, unlike Enlightened Europe and North America, supposed the best way to govern a nation is to listen to, and accept advice from, subject people. 

However, like some Christian nations, the Chaldeans did expect the conquered to accept the religious and cultural traditions of their conquerors. Why would the Jews not welcome the rule and worship of the god who was clearly stronger than their defeated god? It only made sense that the more powerful gods must be honored, flattered, and placated if they would protect their devotees from their enemies. Any deities who could not protect their own walled cities from invading armies should not be honored; they were laughably weak and should be dismissed and forgotten. 

But the Jews didn't see it that way. If they had been conquered, it was because they had failed to honor the covenant with the LORD who had created the universe and everything within it. He had turned them over to their enemies -- as he had said he would. Their hope lay not in forgetting the LORD and their past with its traditions, culture, and religion, but in repentance. 

American Catholics face this dilemma today. Especially since divorce became a routine way of dealing with unsatisfying marriages, and abortion became birth control, Catholics have had to come apart from the society around them and worship the Lord who has revealed the truth to us. 

The Letter to the Hebrews reminds of our call to be unlike our neighbors,  

...Jesus also suffered outside the gate, to consecrate the people by his own blood. 

And then urges us,  

Let us then go to him outside the camp, bearing the reproach that he bore. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come

American culture despises our practices of penance. A consumer economy cannot afford self-sacrificing shoppers. Consumers must be driven by the fear of their clothes being outdated, and their cars out-modeled. They should be fascinated by the latest electronic wizardly; they must never notice that new is rarely improved. 

American consumers hope that God is so Good that he'll dismiss almost any sin. If it feels good, it's probably okay. There are certain exceptions, of course. They hate the abuse of children, whether physical, emotional, or sexual; and suspect any discipline that limits a child's free choice.  

What matters is career, not parents, spouses, or children. Upward mobility works only for the individual. Moving into a higher economic or social sphere requires a new partner. 

Fidelity is not sleeping with more than one partner at a time. Sincerity covers a multitude of sins. If you really love someone, it's okay to sleep with them regardless of your vows or those of your lover. But love is only a feeling; it will pass. Love is certainly not a covenant. 

Like Daniel, Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego, Catholics must go outside the camp to be with the Lord. We learn to be in the world but not of the world. We support one another in our practices of fidelity and penance. Unlike ideologues who demand agreement and conformity of one another even as they proselytize the rest of us, we can practice our faith quietly, and share it with those who ask in a civil and pleasant manner. Nor do we look for conspiracies whenever we meet disagreement or opposition. 

By the time Daniel the book appeared, Nebuchadnezzar's empire had collapsed and was supplanted by first the Greek, and then the Seleucid empire. The Jewish faith in God survives to this day. The gods who had apparently conquered Jerusalem are remembered no more; the LORD of Jerusalem is worshiped all over the world. 

The Catholic Church will survive the United States and, we can hope, will have fond memories of its experiment in two-party democracy and representative government. In the meanwhile we remember the Covenant God has given us in Jesus Christ; and we celebrate it as we baptize our young, celebrate our Eucharist, confess our sins, and honor our dead. 

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Lectionary: 160

And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

Saint Francis meditated continually on the Lord; his mind was always alert to God's compassionate mercy and his righteous judgment; and his senses were alert to any sight, sound, or smell that might evoke God's presence. 

On one occasion, as he walked past a flock of goats, he saw a single lamb among them. He burst into tears as the lamb reminded him of Jesus among his enemies. He felt so intensely about this that he persuaded a passing merchant to buy the baby sheep, which he then gave to the bishop of the next town, who kept the animal as a souvenir of the saint's visit. 

On this last Sunday of the liturgical year we celebrate the Lord Jesus as the King of the Universe, and the Good Shepherd who separates the sheep from the goats. , the faithful from the wicked. In the past few years we have heard our Holy Father Pope Francis remind his priests that they must be shepherds with a special concern for the wounded, lost, and wandering sheep. 

If these docile animals are unfamiliar to the billions of people who live in megalopolises, their helpless innocence still speaks to us of our vulnerability before the machinery of war and the machinations of the powerful. We have watched people like us die like helpless sheep in Ukraine, Israel, and Gaza despite all the protections of a civilized society with its safety nets and insured securities. Their apartment buildings, shopping malls, and hospitals -- like ours -- are not built to withstand cruise missiles and weaponized drones. 

Our religion presents Jesus to us as the King of the Universe and Judge of all the Nations who saves his beloved people from these atrocities. He establishes a Kingdom where we study war no more; where we wage peace with every nation on earth. As we wait for that Kingdom which is already among us to be manifest to the nations, we know  the Lord as our Good Shepherd, the lamb of sacrifice. and the priest who offers the sacrifice.

The Galilean Son of Mary can be our king and shepherd because he is the sacrificial lamb on the altar of the cross. Our Father’s obedient son has stripped himself of all the privilege and perquisites of heaven to know our helplessness in an overwhelmingly complex, troubled, and misguided world. We know him as the least among us, an alien in poverty, living like any homeless person, dying without the comfort of cotton sheets or pain killers, and buried in a borrowed grave. 

Our Shepherd is wise to our foolishness because he has felt the same foolish impulses, especially the impulse to power and domination, which he resisted when the Devil tested him. He has shared our insane delusions and suffered our reckless passions. He also knows our bravado in the face of trouble, and the cowardice we hide. 

Our Savior was saved as we must be saved – by the Holy Spirit which informed him from the moment of his conception in Mary's womb. It was that spirit which drove him into the desert after he was baptized, which guided him from Galilee to Jerusalem, and received his last breath on Calvary.

Though harshly treated, he submitted

and did not open his mouth;

Like a lamb led to slaughter

or a sheep silent before shearers,

he did not open his mouth (Is 53:7)

We’re tempted in times like these to thank God the catastrophes are far away; they’re in eastern Europe, or Africa, or Asia. They’re in areas prone to earthquakes, drought, or flooding. They happen to people who are accustomed to poverty, sorrow, and grief. They can’t happen here…

…until they do. Until friends or relatives are killed in a gas explosion or a building collapse; or they kill themselves; or they’re murdered by a faceless, nameless stranger who, until yesterday, never meant harm to anyone.

Living on edge, we’re disappointed by dreams of Caribbean cruises and paradise island getaways. Alcohol, relaxing medications, and erotic fantasies provide little relief. Harrassed by endless entertainment, twentyfour-seven news, traffic jams, and the pinging, ringing, tingling, and tickling of smartphones, we’re not prepared for the moment when life happens. The world is too much for us, as William Wordsworth said two centuries ago. 

The wise among us, knowing that we cannot save ourselves, that nothing in this madness can relieve our distress, turn to the Good Shepherd. We find solace in prayer; we hear reassurance in silence. Shutting down our senses to block out sensations, we ask the Lord who died silently as a mob howled at him, to speak directly to our hearts. 

He found a solitary, quiet place between heaven and earth, on a cross. Our merciful shepherd and judge takes us one by one into the silence of prayer, of dying to ourselves, of eternal life. There he renews our life. He restores us first to our church, and then to family, friends, and society. We belong to him and he is faithful to us, for he cannot deny himself.

Saturday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 502

That the dead will rise
even Moses made known in the passage about the bush,
when he called 'Lord'
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob;
and he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive."

Life after death has never been a given, especially in Jewish thought. God's promise to King David was that his sons would rule in Israel forever, and not that he would see them or know of them from some mysterious place in the afterlife. Nor was it promised to Abraham, Moses, or any of the prophets. The only form of eternal life worth hoping for is that one's name might be remembered as a blessing.  

As I understand the idea of "life after death" originated in India or Persia, and found a ready reception in Greek philosophy which had postulated that the soul and the body were separate things, and the soul might persist when the body perished. Everyone can see when life has left a corpse, but where did it go? India Hindus believed that it migrated to another body, which might be human but could be something else. 

That fanciful notion found no home in Jewish thought. Perhaps they responded, "Why would anyone want to live in this troubled world again?  What would God recycle souls when he can create as many descendants of Abraham as there are stars in the sky and grains of sand on the seashore?"

The first two books of Maccabees, found in Catholic versions of the Old Testament, support the notion of life after death as they describe the persecution which faithful Jews suffered for their faith. Suffering prolonged and vicious torture at the hands of pagans, they still refused to eat pork, and recited psalm prayers. Surely the God who can do all things will reward those individuals for their loyalty to him. 

Christianity also suffers persecutions as the Gospel spreads from Jerusalem throughout the world. There has never been a century without martyrs, and there is no reason to suppose there ever will be one. When the Age of Martyrs ceases, we'll know that God has abandoned his Church and reneged on his covenant. And that will not happen. God's Holy Spirit will always find willing persons to announce the Gospel.  

The promise of eternal life is given to martyrs; the rest of us hope we might be found worthy to join their company. 

Memorial of Saint Andrew Dung-Lac, Priest, and Companions, Martyrs

 Lectionary: 501

Jesus entered the temple area and proceeded to drive out those who were selling things, saying to them,
"It is written, 

My house shall be a house of prayer,

but you have made it a den of thieves."

When the Jewish exiles returned to Jerusalem after their captivity in Babylon, they discovered they could not recreate the religion their ancestors had known. Seventy years had passed; few if any remembered the way things had been. They were children and grandchildren of exiles who had never seen this (ruined) city. Nor could they restore their independent nation; Israel would not reappear until 1948. David's descendants would claim their title but their royal lineage was little more than a family heirloom. 

Their religion had become a private matter observed in families and local synagogues. Although the city rebuilt the temple and resumed the sacrifice of oxen and sheep, pigeons and turtledoves with Levite priests, most Jews lived abroad. They were scattered from India to Spain; in Asia, Africa, and Europe. They kept the ancient faith by adapting the Law of Moses to the new circumstances, by keeping a kosher diet, studying the law and prophets, and singing the psalms. 

Unexpectedly, they had admirers. Gentiles wanted to worship their God and to practice their religion. These strangers had no ancestors who were exiles in Jerusalem, much less slaves in Egypt. They spoke different languages with odd accents and their features were not familiar. 

Plus, some eunuchs wanted to pray with the Jews. These royal officials, castrated as children and assigned to service in  the imperial government, were capable and had connections. They were the kind of friends everyone wants in high places. The Law of Moses had explicitly ruled they should not be allowed "in the assembly of the Lord." 

Fortunately, the spirit of prophecy remained with the returned exiles and a new Isaiah announced, 

To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, who choose what pleases me, and who hold fast to my covenant, I will give them, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name.

And to the strangers without Jewish ancestry, the prophet said, 

And foreigners who join themselves to the LORD,
to minister to him,
To love the name of the LORD,
to become his servants—
All who keep the sabbath without profaning it
and hold fast to my covenant,
Them I will bring to my holy mountain
and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
Their burnt offerings and their sacrifices
will be acceptable on my altar,
For my house shall be called
a house of prayer for all peoples.

The old ways of thought did not disappear; a religion as widespread as post-exilic Judaism could not be expected to agree about everything overnight. Levites still offered sacrifices in the old style; and and there was an expectation that a once-and-future King David would restore properly accredited priests to the temple and kings to the Jewish throne. And the day would come when every nation would worship the God of the Jews. They would study the wisdom of the Torah and the teachings of the Mishnah and Talmud. 

And there were new problems. The world had entered the temple, especially in the form of merchants selling sacrificial animals, and money-changers who accepted foreign currencies in exchange for Jewish coin. The scene in the outer areas of the temple could get pretty raucous. It surprised and sometimes scandalized the innocent, pious pilgrims who came from near and far to worship the Holiness of God. Where they expected an awe-inspiring silence, they found the cacophony of the bazaar. Where they expected the happy generosity, they found skinflints and connivers. Some people, including the Nazarene Jesus, found it unbearable. 

In Saint Luke's version of the story, Jesus's citation of Isaiah demands a renewal of Israel. We should be a holy people, a holy temple, and a holy city. Everyone who comes near us should feel the Holiness of God's presence. As so many of us feel saddened, silenced, and stupefied by the continuing distress of this world, we hear Jesus remind us of our best gift. The world needs us, people who are living stones of God's house. Now more than ever.

Thanksgiving Day

Lectionary: 943-947

And now, bless the God of all,
    who has done wondrous things on earth;
Who fosters people’s growth from their mother’s womb,
    and fashions them according to his will!
May he grant you joy of heart
    and may peace abide among you;
May his goodness toward us endure in Israel
    to deliver us in our days.

When I think of Thanksgiving, I think of President Lincoln's Proclamation designating the last Thursday of November as a day of prayer for the United States. Although the Civil War had not yet ended, the rebellious states were exhausted and largely occupied by union troops. Despite the war, the nation had been blessed by extraordinary abundance in its fields, mines, and industry. The population had increased; and no European power had threatened its borders. The carnage would continue for several more months but there was reason to give thanks, and cause for rejoicing. 

My gratitude increases when I remember that General Lee surrendered at Appomattox. General Grant allowed the rebels to retain their weapons and return home, and General Lee did not urge them to continue a guerrilla war -- which might have persisted to this day. 

We are once again a troubled nation. If few expect another civil war, few expected the last one. Only the most radical abolitionists and secessionists saw it coming. So long as Mr. Trump refuses to accept his defeat and acknowledge his responsibility for the insurrection of January 6, 2020, the present violence could escalate into guerrilla war. 

But the Lord is good in every moment, and gracious to us at all times, and so we are grateful. It is God who grants joy of heart and peace of mind, and we must ask Him for these blessings. We should put no conditions on these gifts like, "I'll be happy when...." or "I'll know peace if...." 

Rather, like the distressed disciples on their way to Emmaus, we look to discover the reassuring, calming presence of the Lord both in the world around us and within our hearts. As they said with much wonder, "Were not our hearts burning within us?" 

This is a decision that we make; it doesn't just happen. There are many people who refuse to participate in Thanksgiving. They might rationalize their obstinacy, and their friends and family will be hard pressed to refute their reasons. In some households, that cynicism will prevail and meals will be taken in sullen silence. 

We choose to celebrate Thanksgiving today. We recall the mercy God has shown to our family, church, and nation, and to each of us personally. We choose to be glad and grateful of heart as we remember and name the Lord's innumerable gifts. 

In the Spirit of the Crucified and Risen Lord, gladness comes easily as we pray with Yeshua Ben Sirach and our ancient ancestors,

May his goodness toward us endure in Israel

    to deliver us in our days.

Memorial of Saint Cecilia, Virgin and Martyr

 Lectionary: 499

'I tell you,
to everyone who has, more will be given,
but from the one who has not,
even what he has will be taken away.
Now as for those enemies of mine who did not want me as their king,
bring them here and slay them before me.'"

At least as frightening as Jesus's story of the nobleman's punishment is Saint Luke's remark about what happened next, 

"After he had said this, he proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem."

The man means business and his pilgrimage to the holy city has a purpose. Jesus is the lord who is returning to his fiefdom, and he might not be happy about what he finds there. Plus, a lord knows he is responsible to a higher authority and must answer for disappointing results.  

As the liturgical year ends and Advent approaches, the Church remembers "death and judgment, heaven and hell." The mood fits November, when we do inventory, and ask ourselves, "Are we ready for winter?" Although few of us are subsistence farmers who must check their supplies of meats, canned goods, and grain, we nonetheless rely on a supply chain that can sustain us through plagues, droughts, and catastrophes. Are we as a people ready for the Judgment Day? 

This is the time of year when we tell our children the story of the grasshopper and the ants. While the grasshopper was dancing, singing, and playing his fiddle, the ants were laying up for the winter. When the cold arrived, the foolish individual perished while the communal, hard-working ants survived despite the enforced idleness of winter. The fable reminds us that life is hard. If we survive the hard times it's because we plan, work together, labor intensely and prepare for every contingency. 

Jesus's fable also teaches us to expect his return, and not to expect much indulgence from the impatient Lord. 

Everyone knows what happened when he arrived in Jerusalem. Hailed as the messiah by the crowds, he was condemned by the same mob and crucified. He took the judgment and God's wrath upon himself and died for our sins. 

But the threat remains. We can see that in the violence that continues among restless peoples. If Americans once regarded themselves as the hardworking ants and other nations as idle grasshoppers, we're beginning to see a more complex history of exploitation and impoverishment. We're also discovering that the world is flat, and that American youth are competing with better trained children all over the earth. 

With his parable of two successful investors and one slacker, the Lord teaches us to expect and welcome judgment. It will come; it will be very real; it will be rewarding for some, and terrible for others. 

Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 680

And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said,

"Here are my mother and my brothers.

For whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother."

It probably does no harm to Mary or the Church to admit that there was no custom of presenting baby girls in the temple in Jerusalem. Today's memorial seems to be a frank imitation of the February feast of the Presentation of Jesus. That event is well attested in the Gospel of Saint Luke and by the tradition chronicled in in the book of Exodus. 

 

However, the Book of Leviticus describes a rite of purification for women who'd given birth. Forty days after the birth of a boy, and eighty days after an infant girl, women should present themselves at the entrance of the tent of meeting with an offering. The Levite priest would pray for her and she could resume her customary place in the worship services. 

But the presentation of a firstborn son and the purification of a woman who has recently given birth should not be confused, despite Saint Luke's allusion to "their purification."  

However, the story of Mary's presentation was not created by medieval or counter-reformation piety. It's a very ancient tradition celebrated by the second century apocryphal "Gospel of James;" and reflects an ancient fascination with Mary, the Mother of Jesus. Long before the Council of Nicea decreed that she is the Mother of God. we wanted to know his mother. Who was this woman raised up and blessed by every generation until the end of time?  

The Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary  reminds us of her persistent and pervasive presence in our religion, beginning with her innumerable types in the Old Testament. She appears in the Gospel of John and both of Saint Luke's books. These Evangelists acknowledge her necessary presence at critical moments in God's plan of salvation. 

• Her consent -- in Latin, fiat, meaning "Let it be" -- given to Gabriel is critical to God's plan of salvation. 
• Jesus seemed to be waiting on her signal at Cana to begin his ministry. 
• As the Father sacrificed his only begotten son on Calvary for the salvation of the world she also gave her only son, the fruit of her virgin womb. 
• Although the Woman of Revelation 12 is not explicitly called Mary, her resemblance to the Virgin Mother in Bethlehem is unmistakable. 

Mary's presentation in the temple eighty days after the Nativity of Mary (September 8) reminds each of us that we must be present -- we must show up -- in the Lord's house and among his disciples. Like Mary we are holy and we must shine like sparks darting through stubble, for our holiness is the starry crown on her head. 

Monday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 497

Many in Israel were determined and resolved in their hearts not to eat anything unclean; they preferred to die rather than to be defiled with unclean food or to profane the holy covenant; and they did die. Terrible affliction was upon Israel.

The four Books of Maccabees (the first two are canonical) begin with a situation both terrible and familiar. Exodus begins with the same note of unbearable suffering in a hopeless predicament:

...the Egyptians reduced the Israelites to cruel slavery, making life bitter for them with hard labor, at mortar and brick and all kinds of field work—cruelly oppressed in all their labor.

There is also heroism in both stories. The Hebrew midwives ignored the Pharaoh's command to kill the infant boys; and in a similar predicament more than a thousand years later, 

"...many in Israel were determined and resolved in their hearts not to eat anything unclean; they preferred to die rather than to be defiled."

The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

In these stories, God's chosen people are hated, ostracized, and persecuted in their own homes. The social, economic, and political situations may be entirely different, but distress is the same. They have no choice but to endure and to wait for God to act. 

If we read these stories today with little reflection, we might suppose they have nothing to do with us. There is no government-sponsored repression of any religious sects except those which engage in criminal activity.  

But there was in biblical Egypt and Israel the same pressure to forget the LORD and conform to a dominant, alien culture. Their pagan rulers, like our American culture, dismissed faith in God as passe, unrealistic, and unnecessary. And, like Catholics in America, we read of some Jews buckling under the pressure in Egypt and occupied Israel.  

Maccabees tells us that "many children of Israel were in favor of (the alien king's) religion; they sacrificed to idols and profaned the sabbath." Many American Catholics have had abortions; suppose that they should divorce if their marriage doesn't "work out okay;" and prefer sexualized entertainment. 

Catholics today, struggling to practice their own faith and teach their children the ancient doctrines, are confronted at every turn with skepticism and dismissal. Profoundly distracted by the demands of careers and basic survival in an increasingly complex society, they have little time or energy to invest in the practice of faith, much less to study its doctrines and traditions. 

But Catholics also suppose they know little about the Bible when, in fact, most of our religion is deeply informed by scripture. Kneeling, genuflecting, bowing one's head, and striking one's chest during prayer reflect our biblical roots. Incense, candles, sacred songs and readings, priesthood, Baptism, and Eucharist, and pilgrimages -- to name a few -- are found in scripture because we were doing those things when we wrote the Bible! 

The reformers of the Second Vatican Council never intended to open the flood gates to banality, but many of our traditions have succumbed to the skepticism of the secular city. Many Catholics cannot explain why we do those things. They cannot respond to a rationalism that wants everything explained in plain English. If a twelve year old child cannot understand it, it's too complex.  

But the Holy Spirit does not surrender God's people to an all consuming conformity. There are many things we despise because our God reminds us of what is human. Our faith hates divorce; it denounces abortion, and shuns racism. As a Church, we sacrifice for the love of others and the love of God. We don't live for ourselves. Nor do we know where God is leading us. But we're sure it will not be to a culture where diversity, equity, and inclusion are the only values. If we are deemed outlandish by our neighbors, we remember that we are a people set apart and sent to judge the earth and its inhuman values. 

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 157

'Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities.

Come, share your master's joy.'

The Book of Genesis tells us that the Lord placed Adam and Eve in Eden as gardeners. They had work to do which, we can suppose, they found enjoyable and satisfying. Gardening looks like work to me but I am told that many people take up gardening as a labor of love. Getting their fingers in the dirt restores their sense of being Earthlings on this dynamic planet, engaged and responsible and productive. 

Adam and Eve had chores beyond gardening; they should also name the various animals and plants, an occupation still pursued by horticulturalists and zoologists. 

What they didn’t do was lay on lounges while angels peeled their grapes and plied them with kiwis from New Zealand and papayas from Chiapas. 

I hear an echo of that story in today’s gospel. When the master of those servants came home he didn’t tell them to take a six week cruise in the Caribbean or month-long hunting trip in Montana. He said, 

Well done, my good and faithful servants.

Since you were faithful in small matters,

I will give you great responsibilities.

Come, share your master's joy.

Many people suppose that heaven must be an everlasting vacation, with no difficulties, challenges, or responsibilities. It might be a city with streets of gold and ivory towers. Google will tell you that, “Heaven is a place of peace, love, community, and worship, where God is surrounded by a heavenly court and other heavenly beings.” Some men think all their needs will be satisfied by pretty little virgin girls, 

But do I want an eternity that asks nothing of me? Can I be fully human without the exercise of courage, generosity, and sacrifice. Do I want a life with no risk, where I win every hand of poker, and every game of pickleball?  

When I was a hospital chaplain I met people who spend their retirement watching television, sleeping in the same chair day and night, changing their clothes once a week (if that often), with a refrigerator stocked with beer within easy reach. They seemed to have it made in the shade, and asked nothing more of life. My sister used to work in a neighborhood bar from eight am till four pm. She had a regular clientele of retired men; their wives had driven them out of the house and they passed their days in the tavern, watching football replays year in and year out; and, one by one, disappearing. 

Everyone has their own visions of heaven, and that’s fine; but, like everything else, we should choose our visions carefully. Personally, I’d like to have a good road bike, with a no-limit credit card, smooth highways with gentle slopes, and hostels evenly spaced between idyllic destinations. But I don’t expect it. 

Saint Therese of Lisieux said she would spend her eternity doing good on the earth. I expect responsibility and challenge and I hope the Lord will always ask more of me, more than I can give, more than I can imagine giving. 

Blessed John duns Scotus, one of the most brilliant medieval theologians, taught the church that we respond to God’s grace with one of three answers: yes, no, and not yes. 

Yes is “Here I am,” which was the prayer of Abraham, Samuel, Isaiah, Jesus, Mary, and all the saints. Here I am, ready, eager, open, available, willing, generous. Just tell me what to do and I’ll throw myself at it. Do you want me to work or play, eat or sleep, run or walk, weep or laugh, sing or dance, or dance and sing? Whatever you want, Here I am! 

No is go away. I haven’t time. I’m not home. I don’t know you. I’m busy. Fuggetaboutit. Am I my brother’s keeper? 

Not yes is not not no; it is a hesitation, an unreadiness. It is a pause. Perhaps it is a request for time, for recuperation, for refreshment, for recreation that is recreating. 

I imagine heaven like being in the presence of the invisible but palpable immensity of God’s  purity, mercy, justice, kindness, and majesty while I stand back, eager to give more but frozen by my fear of losing myself completely. The Lord is a sacrificial black hole which draws everything into itself and is never satisfied, always wanting more.

 

Our saints are those men, women, and children who have stood closest to the unquenchable flame of God’s love and called us to come closer even as they wept at their failure to plunge even more deeply into God’s goodness. “Love is not loved!” Saint Francis wept, “Love is not loved!” 

I do not know what heaven is like and I suppose everyone has their own visions of heaven; but we should choose our visions carefully. We live our life in this world as we hope to discover our life in eternity. If we love God here, we’ll love God all the more in Eternal Bliss. If we ignore God here, we’ll ignore him in eternity as well; and be ignored by him, which is not a pleasant place to be. 

The blessed will enjoy the endless challenge, the same challenge we enjoy here, of being called to give more, more freely, more readily, more eagerly. 

Occasionally we’ll have to say, “not yes, not yet. I need time to recover, recreate, refresh. I want to enjoy myself and my accomplishment of being the decent human being you have created, forgiven, and restored. I want to enjoy the beauty and grandeur and wonder of a little flower, or a grand canyon, or an ocean rift, or a supernova. I need to breathe and enjoy again the cycles of inhaling, exhaling, and satisfaction; or summer, fall, winter, spring, and summer again. 

And now Lord, ask more of me, Here I am. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Rose Philippine Duchesne, virgin

Lectionary; 496

“There was a judge in a certain town
who neither feared God nor respected any human being. 
And a widow in that town...."

Comedy and terror often accompany one another in the entertainment industry. Actors in a horror movie are sometimes overcome as their story builds a tension which must snap into spine-tingling sensations when the ghoul appears, or hysterical laughter. In today's readings a comical story follows a terrifying story of God's wrath descending upon Egypt. 

In the first story, God's appearance, though it descends in silent darkness, wreaks violence and death upon the unsuspecting oppressors of Israel; in the second, God works mysteriously as an unpleasant widow harasses an unscrupulous judge. In both stories, fear plays its parts and justice is restored. 

The stories remind us of the Lord's pervasive, intense presence. This theme is constant in the Bible and in our Church; little by little God's kingdom must saturate our lives. We are never far from God's authoritative love, though we sometimes try to remove ourselves.

Those foolish attempts don't draw us closer to friends, family, or reality; they only lead us into an imaginary world of our own construction. It is a house of cards built on sand, and doomed from the outset. 

Sometimes other people join us in these imaginary worlds. Perhaps they find them entertaining, distracting, or rewarding in some way. But when they realize how little we're willing to share our creativity with them; when they see that we're playing god; and in our world they must obey our whims and fancies, they shear off to find other amusement. Alcoholics, for instance, prefer the company of other alcoholics, and they sometimes attract codependent persons who support them in their disease, until the disease consumes and destroys everyone involved. 

Wisdom can be a delightful charmer, a nagging widow, or an angel of doom, but her mission is always to draw us back to the Lord and obedience to him. Wisely, we come back to the Way. 

Franciscan Memorial Feast of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary

 Lectionary: 495

So it will be on the day the Son of Man is revealed.
On that day, someone who is on the housetop
and whose belongings are in the house
must not go down to get them,
and likewise one in the field
must not return to what was left behind.

Jesus repeats his teaching about the Day of the Lord in today's gospel. There will be, and should be, no doubt about its appearance. You'll know it when you see it. 

He used images of his time to illustrate its urgency, but they're often misinterpreted by Christian preachers. Not recognizing the Lord's familiar language, they suppose that something really weird will happen on that day. They suppose that, "One will be taken and the other left" means people will suddenly soar aloft, as if aliens are beaming them up Star Trek style into UFOs. Such preaching makes for good entertainment but misses the point. 

We know about true emergencies. Whenever we board a plane we're reminded we might have to evacuate and there will be no time for grabbing carry-on luggage. Get up, get in the aisle, and get out! Forget your stuff. Go!

Similarly, fire fighters tell us, "Get out of the building now! Don't go back to retrieve your wallet, your keys, or your teddy bear!" This is real, people! 

The Kingdom of God tests our values. Do we obey the Lord first, or do we have certain reservations about immediate obedience. Do we reply, "I'll come when I'm good and ready;" or, "Let me go back and bury my father?" 

Which of us has not put off grace when it was offered to us? Everyone has a sad memory of hurting long after it was necessary because of something that seemed, at the time, terribly important. And now we can't remember why it was so important. 

We learn to reply like Abraham whenever he heard the voice of the Lord? "Here I am!" He used that expression when the Lord commanded him to sacrifice his son Isaac. And he replied with the same immediate obedience even as he raised the knife to slay the boy. In a moment of intense, godly passion, having overcome every human, parental instinct to spare the boy, he forgot everything again when he heard God speak, and said, "Here I am!" 

Abraham was justified by his faith. The statement in Genesis 15:6, “And he believed in the Lord, and he accounted it to him for righteousness,” is quoted in Romans 4:3, 22; Galatians 3:6 and James 2:23. His fidelity was his salvation. (Not to mention the child's!) He provided a model of faith which stands for all time, and the Son, whom he delighted to see, followed his example. 

Rather than idle speculation about how one will be taken and the other left, we should consider how ready we are to hear and respond immediately to the voice of the Lord. 

 

Optional Memorial of Saint Margaret of Scotland

 Lectionary 494

"The days will come when you will long to see
one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it.
There will be those who will say to you,
'Look, there he is,' or 'Look, here he is.'
Do not go off, do not run in pursuit.
For just as lightning flashes
and lights up the sky from one side to the other,
so will the Son of Man be in his day.
But first he must suffer greatly and be rejected by this generation."

You'll know it when you see it! The Lord seems to say in this gospel. You needn't be running off in this or that direction, following every vague suggestion or serious crackpot about the end of the world. When that day comes, there'll be no doubt anywhere, whether you're in the city or countryside, at the equator or a polar cap. You'll know it. 

More important than concerns about when he will come, we should recognize our longing for his coming. That aching feeling cannot be satisfied with silly rumors or idle suggestions. We want God's kingdom, especially as we hear in the daily news -- I should say minute by minute news-- of wars and rumors of war. 

On October 31 of this year, the Catholic News Agency ran a story about Franciscan cardinal Mauro Piacenza and his response to the continual stream of tragedies. He said, "Peacemaking begins in our own hearts by reconciling with ourselves and God through the sacrament of confession."

If you want to do something effective to end war, practice penance. Go to confession. Fast, pray, and volunteer to do good works within your church, neighborhood, or community. Don't waste your time wringing your hands and listening to the same story hour after hour. Newscasters are only making money off your anxiety. How many times do you need to see the same explosion of the same bomb? The same baby rushed into a hospital? The same burnt out supermarket? That's not news. That's entertainment and your obsessive watching is voyeurism. 

The world needs our sacred presence, and we become that urgently needed holy people as we admit that we're no better than anyone else. With the practice of penance we accompany the Lord who does penance with us. He has suffered greatly and been rejected by this generation. Let us go to die with him.